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1923 


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The Things That Count 

By Ruth Yolande Shaw 




Let’s live and laugh together 
Let's walk close hand in hand. 
Let’s hope thro’ fears 
Let’s smile thro’ tears, 

Let’s Love and Understand. 





Copyright, October, 1923 
By Ruth Yolande Shaw 



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CONTENTS 


Aftermath, The . 117 

Across the Years . 60 

Alternative, The . 81 

All Else Forgot . 65 

Ambition’s Call . 30 

An-All-Year Wish . 123 

Autumn. 74 

Beauty Spots .1 1 8 

Biggest Man, The . 57 

Contrast. 9 

Compensation. 34 

Comeback, The . 103 

Care-free Boy, A .,. 37 

Cast Thou No Stone . 87 

Conscience, The .. 95 

Cycle, The . 88 

Christmas Thought, A . 94 

Completeness ...1 19 

Christmas Lilt, A. 58 

Courage . 26 

Christian Concept, The . 89 

Definance . 15 

December . 18 

Echoes of Youth ...108 

Essence of Life . 83 

Friend O’ Mine .1 1 1 

Forgiving.. 1 1 

Faith. 63 

For Remembrance . 35 

Gethsemane . 44 

Glint O’Sun, A. 82 

Gladness of Today, The. 42 



































Grieve Not ... 



... 80 

Greater Wisdom, The .. 



. 13 

Gauze Gods ... 



.100 

Hello... 


. 

. 8 

Heaven . 



. 32 

Homefolks ... 



.. 24 

Heart of a Friend, The . 



. 36 

Home Again . 



..... .. 16 

Home . 



. 43 

Hope. 



....... 80 

Humility ..... 



. 76 

Human Need, The. 



.115 

Immutable, The . 



....... 19 

If You and I .. 



....... 49 

I Wish ... 



. 72 

In Days To Come __._ 



. 59 

Just a Little Love. 



.122 

Line O’ Cheer, A... 



.. 65 

Little Old Things... 



_109 

Lure of Autumn, The. 



. 55 

Latchstring of Love, The . 

.,_ 


... 45 

Life’s Love-Knots . 



.102 

Let’s Be Glad .... 



. 91 

Loan of Life, The . 



.......114 

Land of Dreams, The. 



. 75 

Little Town, The. 



. 84 

Last Chord, The . 



. 38 

Lovingest Folks, The . 



. 29 

Life, Death . 



.107 

Memorial Day . 



.125 

Mother, A. 



. 28 

Mist O’ The Morning ... 



_106 

My Creed .... 



_104 

New Year, The... 



..110 

Ommissions . 



_ 40 

Onery Little Bum, The . 



. 20 

One Quiet Hour. 



.120 







































Out Our Way . 68 

Parasite, The. 52 

Perversity . 98 

Patchwork. 27 

Phantasy, A. 10 

Present, The . 43 

Purpose, The.105 

Quest Eternal, The. 47 

Right to Joy, The . 90 

’Round the Corner. 96 

Retrospection ..1 16 

Self-Sins .126 

Solitude . 1 19 

Sign of the Times, The . 70 

Sigh of a Spent Spirit, The . 50 

So Little It Takes .127 

Solace . 53 

Somewhere . 22 

Some Day of Days. 54 

Smiles and Tears .124 

True Greatness . 92 

Tribute to a Nurse.121 

Things That Count, The . 7 

Today. 99 

Thankslivin’ . 66 

Thanksgiving . 112 

Unseen Shadows . 61 

Unreflected Glory . 78 

When God May Laugh. 93 

When Love Shall Reign. 52 

Where Friendship Is . 39 

































THE THINGS THAT COUNT 


It isn’t gold and grandeur, it isn’t power or fame 

That make life worth the living or wins us no¬ 
ble name. 

It’s love and cheer and laughter, it’s courage 
strong and true, 

That counts the most in making life each day, 
for me and you. 

It’s kindly thought and action, forgetting self 
and greed. 

It’s reaching out both hand and heart to meet 
another’s need. 

It’s simple trust and gladsome joy in little tasks 
we do. 

These are the things that count the most in life 
for me and you. 

It’s giving of our talents, our time, our strength, 
our all, 

In noble work and service in answer to life’s call. 

It’s giving love and living love that makes life 
dear and true, 

And in the afterwhile, I think, these things will 
count most too. 


7 


HELLO.” 


“Good morning,” or “How do you do my 
friend,” 

Is a perfectly proper greeting, 

But somehow I like the word “Hello” 

Between good friends, when meeting. 

It’s just like a shake of the hand, you know. 

It sounds like a word of cheer, 

It makes you feel that the heart rings true 
And friendly and more sincere. 

It’s a quick little word with a breezy air 
That reaches the heart of you, 

And even the strangers we meet on the way 
Seem to smile at the sound of it, too. 

It’s a short little word but it means so much. 

Lot’s more than the formal bow. 

So give me the little word “Hello,” 

I rather like it, somehow. 


8 


“CONTRAST.” 


Jes ’cause a bee popped out of One 
An* stung you on the nose. 

Don’t quit off smellin’ flowers an* say 
There’s bees in Every rose. 

There’s got to be some bumble bees 
An’ got to be some stings. 

We’ve got to have Some way to tell 
The sweet from bitter things. 

Jes ’cause the sky today seems dark 
With lowering clouds and drear, 

Don’t grumble like you think the Sun 
Is hidden for a year, 

Cause when it shows itself again 
You’ll ’predate it more. 

An’ say it never seemed to you 
So fine and bright before. 

Jes ’cause a bit of trouble comes 
To mar your perfect bliss, 

Don’t sit and grieve your life away 

And say because of this 

That you can never smile again. 

With singing you are done, 

Yer songs should be the sweeter 
Fer your blessings when they come. 


9 


‘A PHANTASY. 


When we can lift aside the veil of night, 

And penetrate the great unknown with clearer 
sight. 

When we can know and speak of mysteries yet 
unspoken 

Or break the secret seal no man has broken. 
When we can clear away the mists that roll 
In greyness, parting only for the passage of a 
soul. 

When we can bend all nature to our will 
Or bid the raging storms be calm and still. 
When we can cause the Sun to rise each morn. 
Or fill with pulse and breath a soul new-born. 
When we can set the canopy of night. 

With countless golden gems.of radiant light, 
When we can stay the soul ere it is flown 
Within the mystic gate that bars the vast un¬ 
known, 

When we can make all life one joyous dream. 
Unmarred by sin or tears—gladness supreme— 
Then we may claim the world, then we’ll hold 
the key. 

That unlocks life—death—time and every mys¬ 
tery. 


10 


FORGIVING. 


This matter of forgiving’s not an easy thing to 
do 

When a bitterness is filling all the soul and 
heart of you, 

When your mind is all upset with thoughts of 
cruel hurt and wrong 

It’s mighty passing natural to remember them 
along. 

But oh, it’s heap more glorious just to lay them 
all away 

These harsh misunderstandings that we have 
most every day. 

Instead of holding grudge and nursing griev¬ 
ances and spite 

A little calm reflection will oftimes set mat¬ 
ters right, 

A little generous thinking with self-pity all for¬ 
got 

Will straighten out a tangle when an angry 
mood will not. 

That seeming keen injustice that we suffered 
yesterday 

Will vanish like a shadow if we will it so today. 

We all are only human, prone to faults and sad 
mistakes. 

Not one but needs forgiveness for some errors 
that he makes, 


11 


And the most relieving feeling and the gladdest 
that can come 

Is to be forgiven fully for some foolish thing 
we’ve done. 

So it’s only big and generous to accord forgive¬ 
ness too 

For the other fellow’ll like it just the same as 
me and you. 


12 


“THE GREATER WISDOM.” 


Just because a fellow differs from the crowd, 
including you. 

Or because he doesn’t happen to quite always 
take your view. 

Just because his tastes and nature unlike yours 
so much appear, 

Why, for such a reason, tell me, should you 
call this fellow queer? 

Just because he dares to live life as it suits 
him best and well, 

Tho’ you cannot understand it, as his oddities 
you tell. 

Or because he dares be natural—just himself— 
without a fear. 

Does this give you right or reason to call him 
eccentric, queer? 

If the crowd attracts and wins you and you fall 
in line with it, 

And you wear the yoke of custom—like your 
friends, from mere habit. 

Never daring to be different, catering to the 
crowd so dear. 

Why should not this other fellow think the crowd 
and you most queer? 

It’s the daring different fellow, unafraid to think 
and do, 


13 


Who takes rank oftimes the highest over all the 
crowd and you. 

In his life he finds true pleasure, real content¬ 
ment—what’s more dear? 

So perhaps some greater wisdom rests in folks 
we oft think queer. 


14 


DEFIANCE. 

Life crushed my little dreams 
With grinning mockery. 

Then scattered their puny fragments 
That all the world might see. 

Existence seemed empty and void. 
But I—did I hang my head. 

With whining doubt and rebellion. 
Self-pitying tears did I shed? 

Not so—I laughed in defiance, 

I rallied with strength anew. 

Said I, I’ll dream new dreams. Life, 
In spite of fate and you. 


15 


HOME AGAIN. 

It’s fine to steal away and visit distant friends 
awhile, 

To mix and mingle with ’em and to meet their 
kindly smile, 

It’s nice to have ’em tell us things they’ve done 
and are to do. 

An’ it’s great to hear the children in the family 
boosted too. 

It’s mighty nice to steal away to such just now 
and then, 

But, oh, it’s mighty fine, somehow, to get back 
home again. 

It’s mighty fine to bide a bit within the atmos¬ 
phere, 

Of those who’re far removed from us, yet to 
our hearts are dear. 

It’s mighty comfortin’ and good to have old 
times renewed. 

Recalling memories sad or glad, and other days 
reviewed, 

Oh, yes, it’s quite a pleasure minglin’ thus just 
now an’ then, 

But oh, it’s mighty restful like, to get back home 
again. 

It’s mighty fine to travel, and to see the distant 
sights. 

To view the world of pomp and show with all 
its dazzlin’ lights. 


16 


It’s sorter nice to go abroad to for’en climes an’ 
lands. 

And see the wondrous scenery an’ the works of 
human hands, 

It’s purty nice, I will admit, to do this now an’ 
then. 

But, oh, it’s mighty glorious just to get back 
home again. 


17 


DECEMBER.” 


Can’t help what some people say 
Seems to me somehow, someway. 
That December brings more cheer 
Than most any time of year. 

Just seems like the very air 
Teems with gladness everywhere, 

Till the heart of all our sphere 
Thrills and beats with joy and cheer. 

Some folks think December’s old 
’Cause her face shows signs of cold 
As she braves the winds that blow, 
And her hair grows white with snow, 
But I think December’s young 
With a heart heaped full with fun. 
Scattering gladness all the while, 
Making everybody smile. 

She don’t groan with gloomy sighs. 
Love and mirth are in her eyes. 
Showing us before she goes, 

Drawing each year to a close. 

That she wants to leave behind 
Memories loving, warm, and kind. 
Gently bidding us bestow 
More of good will as we go. 


18 


THE IMMUTABLE. 

Long centuries pass, 

Great empires crash. 

Yet God’s World-Plan, 
Thro’ power of man 
Knows naught of change. 

Mind—Science—Skill 
May try His will 
For one short hour, 

But He, in power 
Sees all with pitying eye. 

Creation’s Plan, 

Life—Death and Man, 
By God were thought 
Thro’ God were wrought, 
Tis His alone to change. 


19 


“THE ONERY LITTLE BUM” 


Well, the onery little rascal, 

Meanest kid in this whole town, 
Who’d a thought of him a makin’ 

All the world and us bow down. 
Why, I’ve knowed a lot o’ youngsters. 
An’ I never saw a one 
That wuz quite as good fer nuthin’ 

As that onery little bum. 

Used to live next door to our house, 
An’ there never wuz a day 
That he wasn’t into mischief, 

Lots uv times I used to say 
That his pa an’ ma would suffer 
From this wild and wayward son. 
But by jinks, jist read this paper 
See what he has gone an’ done. 

Gone an’ learnt to be a Doctor, 

Biggest on the glove, by gum, 

Gittin’ all the world’s attention. 

That there onery little bum. 

Him that spent his time a thinkin’ 
Aggravatin’ tricks an’ pranks. 

An’ the day the family left here 
Me an’ all the town give thanks. 

Lands, I used to want to own him 
For a day, to git a chance 


20 


Jist fer once to use my paddle 
On the little rascal’s pants. 

Used to bring home yelpin’ kittens, 
Starvin’ dogs and critters, too. 

That he found in streets an’ alleys. 
Bring ’em home an’ make’ em new. 

Guess this healin’ sort o’ hankerin’ 
Must a been down in his heart. 

An’ it spread to human bein’s, 

Once he kinda got a start. 

Well, I never would a thought it. 

But I reckon since it’s come. 

I’ll join in an’ take my hat off 
To the onery little bum. 


21 


“SOMEWHERE.” 


What tho’ some cherished dream of hope 
Doth shattered fall. 

Some bubble bright float from our sight 
Beyond recall. 

It may be that some finer, sweeter thing. 

Some dream more fair. 

Awaits fulfilling, would our heart but bid 
It enter there. 

Why waste our precious years because 
We are denied 

That hope—that one long cherished dream 
For which we’ve sighed. 

Not all the heartaches and the grief 
Are ours to bear, 

Doubt not that other hearts have known 
More black despair. 

Perhaps the thwarted plan, so dear to us, 

Is not the best, 

It may be that its loss may nobly serve 
To try and test 

Our courage and our strength, our faith 
In Him more wise, 

And prove our worth to win and hold 
A richer prize. 

The joy which seems so sweet, in our dim sight, 
May bring but pain, 


22 


Denied to us, our hearts may riper grow 
For greater gain, 

Why waste our tears and years o’er dreams 
That promised fair. 

Look up—perhaps some deeper, sweeter joy 
Awaits—somewhere. 


23 


“HOME FOLKS” 


Home folks—love ’em, well I guess, 
Hearts jest made of real kindness. 

Miss ’em—I should say I do, 

Don’t find many folks as true, 

Seems like now I jes’ can hear. 

Home folks’ words of love and cheer, 
Knowin* I’ve a welcome there 
Truer an* warmer’n anywhere. 

Home folks ain’t jes’ family kin, 

They’re the folks with whom you’ve been, 
Reared and raised for years an’ years, 
Minglin’ all yer smiles an’ tears. 

Till they seem a part o’ you. 

From yer childhood clear on thru, 

Standin’ by you, lose or win. 

Same as real blood, kith an* kin. 

Makes no difference what you do. 

Seems like home folks still stay true. 
Overlookin’ wayward ways, 

Jes’ rememberin’ happy days, 

Er when praise is but yer due 
Fer something you’ve tried to do, 

Home folks hands are quick to clasp, 

Yours in proud an’ hearty grasp. 

Stranger folks are purty nice, 

Distant things lure an’ entice. 


24 


But I like home folks the bes’! 

Bein’ with ‘ems like a res’. 

When death comes an’ I must go 
Wish that I could only know 
That there’d be some home folks nigh. 
Sorter watchin’, lingerin’ by. 


2 . 


‘COURAGE.” 


It doesn’t take much courage to keep alive each 
day 

When everything is gladsome and bright along 
the way. 

No traveler minds to wend his walk along a 
smooth paved road, 

Nor is he loath to bear a pack if joy is in the 
load. 

It’s when the burdens seem to weigh and skies 
are dull and drear. 

That courage strong is needed to hold the spirit 
here. 

It’s when the road is rocky and joy hath flown 
away 

That a traveler longs to drop the load and rest 
beside the way. 

Yet what of strength or testing can he who 
smoothly sails 

Experience along life’s way, as he who braves 
the gales, 

And he who stops beside the road, loath to con¬ 
tinue trend 

Foregoes the glory and the joy awaiting at the 
end. 


26 


“PATCHWORK.” 


We come into this world unknowing, unintent. 
Helpless and weak and frail, 

We know not whence we came nor why we’re 
sent. 

Nor to what good avail. 

We take the threads of life into our hands 
To make some scheme or plan. 

And many times uneven seams we sew, 

And ravel out again. 

But on we sew in our patchwork way, 

With crooked seams and straight. 

And we hope that the tear-wet threads we use 
Will help to compensate. 

But perhaps the Judge of our patchwork life. 
Is watching in tender care. 

And it may be His love will straighten the seams 
And make them perfect and fair. 


27 


“A MOTHER.” 


A Mother—what more fair than she 
May any woman hope to be? 

Not she who merely bears a child. 

But who, in gratitude, hath smiled. 

She offers life to you and me, 

Whatever the cost to her may be. 

Her heart she lays e’en at our feet 
To make her sacrifice complete. 

She bows her soul to God in prayer. 

Midst weary hours, each day, of care. 

Enfolded on her mother’s breast 
The stranger babe finds love and rest. 

The wayward one from paths of sin. 

She seeks, through faith and love to win. 

She falters not through day or night. 

To guide and lead in steps aright. 

Could she, instead, the burden bear. 

The world would know no woe or care. 

Akin to God—a Mother Heart, 

Earth holds no higher, nobler art. 


28 


“THE LOVINGEST FOLKS.” 


The lovingest folks aren’t the richest in gold 
Nor those who hold title and name. 

The lovingest folks aren’t the mighty in power. 
Nor those who are showered with fame. 
The cheeriest folks aren’t the kings and the 
queens. 

The happiest folks don’t reside 
In the halls and the mansions so stately in style, 
With marble and grandeur inside. 

The lovingest folks are the masses we know. 

Our neighbors and friends ’cross the way. 
Who shoulder a share of the world’s work and 
care 

As they journey along day by day. 

The cheeriest folks are the folks who find joy 
In facing life’s struggle and test. 

In doing and striving with courage anew. 
Fulfilling their duty with zest. 

The happiest folks—or it seems so to me, 

Are those who are richly content 
With things that are wholesome and things that 
are pure. 

Not craving of riches unsent. 

With sympathy, charity, faith and good will, 
Not given to vain worldly show, 

*Tis these who’re the lovingest folks in the world. 
These everyday folks that we know. 


29 


AMBITION’S CALL. 

Building castles in the air is a useless thing, you 
say, 

Well somehow, I differ with you, looks to me 
another way. 

For to me it spells ambition if the castles that 
you plan 

Have a fairly firm foundation, not all shifting, 
sinking sand. 

Day-dreams may seem idle, empty, to another’s 
point of view. 

But a dream that’s not too hazy tends to brighten 
life anew, 

Discontent and restless craving for some higher, 
better thing. 

Is the longing of our spirits to try out some new¬ 
found wing. 

And without ambition’s urging what a stale old 
world ’twould be. 

Nothing different, nothing better, just the same 
old tyranny. 

So to me the dreams and bubbles, and the cas¬ 
tles, tho* some fall. 

Only show an eager spirit wakened to ambition’s 
call. 

Should you fall into a pit, better ’tis to keep 
on trying 


30 


To climb out and gain your freedom than to 
waste your time in crying. 

So in life it’s nobler far, to make effort tho* you 
fail, 

Than to always be a coward, letting doubts and 
fears assail. 


31 


“HEAVEN.” 

I don’t want to go to Heaven if it’s goin’ to be 
a place 

Where everybody sits aroun’ with long, unsmilin’ 
face. 

If God’s big Heaven is meant to be for straight- 
laced folks alone, 

I believe I’d rather stay outside, I wouldn’t feel 
at home. 

I want to go where folks are folks, all human, 
jes’ like me. 

Where ever’body mingles with each other joy¬ 
fully. 

Er if it’s goin* to be a place where highbrows— 
so called—reign, 

Er them who are aristocrats, not naturally, jest 
in name, 

Er where the snobs will gathered be who walk 
the earth down here 

I believe I’ll choose a different place for Heaven 
would hold scant cheer. 

I want to go where neither pride nor wealth nor 
rank nor fame 

Will hold exclusive seat, but where we’ll all be 
jes’ the same. 

And well I know I’ll get my wish for Heaven is 
sure to be 

A place where folks will all be folks and hands 
clasp eagerly. 


32 


All cliques and sects, highbrow or low, will be 
disposed of there, 

Er them who rather like ’em best will be dis¬ 
patched elsewhere, 

’Twont be no use to argue then or ask for spe¬ 
cial pew, 

For God’s big Heaven will be made up of folks 
like me an* you. 


33 


“COMPENSATION.” 


Why seek new visions of old mysteries. 

Let dreamings cease—else all too soon today 
Shall lose its flush of dawn and fade 
In dusk, along the silent, twilight way. 

Forbear the grief o’er longings unfulfilled. 

Let smiles enmasque vain tears and vainer dreams, 
Behold the promise that today doth bring, 

How rich in hope the present vision gleams. 

Reality is but the stuff of dreams come true, 
But what can never be, oh heart, forget, 

Today may hold some fantasy less vain, 

Give not thyself to sighings and regret, 

Look up with faith reborn and courage new. 

No dreamer’s dreams come true, except by fate. 
For every hour that sorrow takes from gladness. 
Some hope, fulfilled, some day, will compen¬ 
sate. 


34 


FOR REMEMBRANCE. 


Could we but treasure every ray of light 
That flits across our way. 

And hold within our hearts in memory bright, 
The beauty of each day, 

‘Twould be deep consolation sweet and calm, 
’Mid sorrows and dismay. 

For in our path each day and hour of time. 
Some thing of beauty lies, 

’Tis found midst old familiar scenes and things 
Oft-times in lowly guise, 

Tho* shadows from the past may sometimes dim 
And blur our watchful eyes. 

But let not mournful shades and shifting clouds 
Thro’ which our pathways wind 
Bar from our vision those bright rays of light 
And beauty that we find. 

Keep every joyous thing, each sunlit gleam 
Engraved in heart and mind. 


35 


“THE HEART OF A FRIEND.” 


The old man sat ’midst his treasures rich. 

Great relics and gems so fair. 

He had passed his three score years and ten 
In search of these things so rare, 

“But one thing I lack,” he sadly said, 

(I wondered what it could be), 

“I’ve forgotten to gather the heart of a friend, 
’Mongst my treasures rare,” said he. 

And the artist told of his quest thro’ the years 
For a wonderful, world-wide fame. 

Of his dreams since childhood days began. 

To make for himself a name, 

“I’ve succeeded,” said he, “but what of it all.” 
I’ve spent all my time in the. quest, 

But I’d give all my fame for the heart of a 
friend, 

For fame brings no happiness. 

And the woman handsomely garbed in silks, 
And velvets and jewels rare. 

With a stately home and social place, 

No semblance of sorrow or care, 

“And yet,” said she, “my friends are bought 
With the money I lavish and spend. 

I’d gladly exchange them and all my wealth 
For the heart of one dear, true friend.” 


36 


“A CARE-FREE BOY’ 


The little street urchin scampered along. 

With a jaunty air as he whistled a song 
Of glad, light hearted youth and joy. 

The kind that’s deep in the heart of a boy. 

And somehow it wafted a note of cheer 
Out ’pon the air as it came to the ear. 

And I caught a second sound of it soon 
For another lad picked up the tune. 

And on it sped to Popcorn Jim 
Who carried it on with a hearty vim. 

And passed it on to the Newsie’s stand. 

And then on down to the old Rag Man. 

Then on they floated, these notes so clear. 

And the old street sweeper standing near 
Forgot his toil and tiresome game 
As he joined in the cheery, glad refrain. 

And the man with the stoop seemed to straighten 
a bit 

As his feet sorter moved to the rhythm of it. 
And the lady fair and the man of style 
Showed their heart’s response by the hint of a 
smile, 

Till it seemed that even the birds ere long 
Took up the air of this urchin’s song. 

And my own soul echoed this bit of joy 
Brought into the world by a whistling boy, 

And I thought to myself, with a feeling new, 

It’s queer what a care-free boy can do. 


37 


THE LAST CHORD.” 


When the last silver chord is broken, 

It’s music stilled to the ear. 

When life’s last song is ended, 

And the long night draweth near, 

’Tis then that life’s harp lies silent. 

Its strings all broken and frayed. 

From the touch of our hands upon them. 
As softly or harshly we played. 

With tender hand we touched some chords. 
Giving music of love and of cheer, 

But others we touched with a trembling. 
That sounded of hatred and fear. 

While the chords of sadness and sorrow 
Seemed played by an unseen hand, 

But the most of the strings so broken. 

Were those at our own command. 

Thro’ use or abuse they are loosened, 

At the close of the song of life. 

The song that bore notes of sweetness, 
Tho’ some with discord were rife. 

Yet methinks that the Master Player 
Will mend all the strings with love, 

And perhaps, in His pity attune them 
To the heavenly harp above. 


38 


“WHERE FRIENDSHIP IS.” 


Friendship, between two hearts, to be sincere. 
Must be, by both, prized highly, richly dear, 
One heart alone cannot prove staunch and true. 
Each one must give the other strength anew. 

If one doth treat it lightly or appear 
To make its value, slight, prove insincere, 

’Tis then that friendship suffers, pines and dies, 
And both have lost a rare and precious prize. 

’Tis sometimes said by one, “I have no friend,’* 
And yet perhaps should such an one attend. 
Unto his own heart’s book, with seeing eye, 

He oft will find the fault therein to lie. 
Perchance in some indifferent, careless way. 

He fails his part as faithful friend to play. 

His own heart’s beat, perhaps, quite out of mea¬ 
sure. 

Thus marring friendship’s perfect joy and plea¬ 
sure. 

Or if of friends he makes much selfish use, 

He gives to friendship’s ties but ill abuse, 

Trust cannot thrive on barren soil and dry, 
Heart must respond to heart, love with love vie. 
False is the friend who takes yet never gives. 
Like faith and trust and love, where friendship is. 
He who would have a friend must be one, too. 
Or think not long to hold another true. 


39 


‘OMISSIONS.” 


Not by our dreams and wishings. 

For things we fain would do, 

Not by the phantom fancies 
That we so oft pursue, 

Are we to be adjudged and weighed. 
When all is said and done, 

’Tis by those things which we can do. 
But leave, alas, undone. 

Not by the heights we long to reach, 

In fancy, bright and gay. 

Not by those words of flowery speech 
That we, in pride, would say, 

’Tis by those heights we may attain, 

But leave unreached, instead. 

And by those words that we can speak, 
But leave, alas, unsaid. 

Not by the love and help we’d give 
To others in the strife, 

Nor by the songs of cheer we’d sing, 
Were wealth our lot in life, 

Are we to be adjudged and weighed. 
When all is said and done, 

’Tis by those songs which we can sing. 
But leave, alas, unsung. 

The works which we can do, but don’t. 
That cross bur path each day. 


40 


The words which we can say but won’t 
To brothers ’long the way, 

*Tis these by which we’ll be adjudged. 
On these our fate is hung. 

The love, the help we might have given, 
The things we left undone. 


41 


“THE GLADNESS OF TODAY.” 

Let’s keep our hearts rejoicin’ 

With the gladness of today. 

And forget the doubts and shadows 
And the cares of yesterday. 

Let’s not question what the future 
Is to bring across our way, 

Let’s keep our hearts rejoicin’ 

With the gladness of today. 

For seasons wet and seasons dry 
Must come, in life to ever’one. 

Some little pinch o’ clouded sky 
Is sure some days to bar the sun. 

An’ sometimes when we’re ’bout to think 
The whole day will be drear. 

Out flops the sun quick as a wink 
An’ soon the sky is clear. 

Fer in our path there’s somethin’, 

It’s a purty certain bet. 

That’s sure to bring more joy 
Than our doubtin’ and regret, 

So let’s jes see the good things 
That come across our way. 

An’ keep our hearts rejoicin’ 

With the gladness of today. 


42 


HOME.” 


Home’s where 
Home’s where 
Home’s where 
Home’s where 
Home’s where 
Home’s where 
Home’s where 
Home’s where 


the heart beats a little truer, 
the world seems a little purer, 
the bond of love is tighter, 
the eye beams a little brighter, 
the smile lasts a little longer, 
the handclasp’s a little stronger, 
the joys of life seem dearer. 
Heaven’s a little nearer. 




“THE PURPOSE.” 

To thine ownself be good. 

But not so good that thou wouldst ere forget 
Thy neighbor’s lot, 

Count not thy life as dear unto thyself 
For such is not 

The aim and purpose of thy being here. 

For Him who gave it thee. 

Count thy life dear. 


43 



‘GETHSEMANE. 


Yesterday, my heart entwined itself. 
About one hope—one longing cry 
For that which, to my human eye 
Seemed to enfold within itself 
The greatest joy. I thought 
The granting of this thing to me 
Would bring the highest ecstasy. 

For it, I made to God, deep prayer 
That I might not know black despair. 

Today, I grope about in darkness. 

The gift for which I longed and sighed 
Came not to me—it was denied. 

Doubts, hurt, rebellion fill my heart 
And I am stunned. I cannot see 
Just why this thing was granted not 
Why such denial must be my lot. 

My brain reeks full with haunting fears. 
My eyes are dimmed with anguished tears. 

Tomorrow now is come. The Yesterday 
Is past with all its longing cries. 

And the Today, with doubts and sighs. 
Thro’ clearing mist I see how small 
How trivial that which seemed to me 
To hold such charm and happiness, 

I see its granting was not best. 

That gift for which I deeply prayed 
I know. My God, in wisdom, stayed. 


44 


“THE LATCHSTRING OF LOVE.” 


Tho* the cottage may stand on a little side street. 
And it’s roof need some patches new, 

Tho’ the rooms may be small and full of things. 
And present just a homely view. 

And perhaps as you enter the house you find 
Much laughter and children galore, 

But the joy and the warmth and the cheer show 
to you 

That the latchstring of love’s on the door. 

Tho* the mansion be stately and builded with 
care. 

And its rooms be many and grand. 

With furnishings rich and costly and rare, 

The finest in all the land, 

Yet you enter the house and you feel such an 
air 

Of chill as you ne’er felt before. 

And you see that the one thing that’s lacking 
here. 

Is the latchstring of love on the door. 

Tho’ a friend may wear but a simple garb. 

In manner and speech be plain, 

Tho’ wisdom and riches and power be slight. 
Too timid for public fame. 

But take him and test him along by the side 
Of one whom fate favors more, 

You’ll find that his heart rings truest and best, 
For the latchstring of love’s at its door. 

45 


It’s the latchstring of love that’s the most worth 
while 

Far more than keys of gold. 

Or strings of trophies or medals or power. 

For it unlocks the human soul. 

For love in a life seems to bring to earth 
A bit of Heaven from above. 

And grand is the house and glad is the heart. 
That hangs out the latchstring of love. 


46 


THE QUEST ETERNAL. 


Somehow life is strange, at best, 

Like one eternal quest. 

And a longing for some satisfying thing. 

Oft our gifts we don’t enjoy. 

Ever hunting some new toy. 

And into the search our hearts and souls we 
fling. 


Hobbies, fancies, plans, we try, 

Hoping each may satisfy. 

And appease our heart’s deep longing, hungry 
cry. 

Soon the charm of each is spent, 

While in weary discontent. 

Like to children o’er their playthings, oft we 
sigh. 


Some continue on the quest, 

With no time for peace or rest. 

While the days and years go by with winged 
feet. 

Would they only stop and ponder. 

As from this to that they wander, 

Close at hand oft lies the toy they wish and seek. 


Some are quick to recognize it. 
Richly, highly do they prize it. 


47 


Knowing well the treacherous trend of fancy’s 
mind, 

In themselves they find the key 
That unlocks the mystery. 

Baring to their eye that which they sought to 
find. 

For the thing each life must meet 
E’er its long search is complete. 

Is contentment in the things with which it’s 
blessed. 

Happiness and simple joy 
Is the one most precious toy. 

Which would end each restless heart’s eternal 
quest. 


48 


IF YOU AND I.” 


If you and I should never cry. 

Just always sing and never sigh, 

And if we’d ever gentle be, 

Filled with great love and charity, 
Always warm-hearted, kind and true. 
Each day would bring but joys anew. 

If you and I should roses give. 

To those we love while yet they live. 

If frowns we’d banish from our face, 
Let smiles appear to take their place. 
How fine ’twould be, for bye and bye. 
Old Worry and its woes would die. 

If you and I—Just you and I 
To do these things would always try. 
And if we’d pause before we make 
Light promises that soon we break, 

Life then would be like one sweet dream 
And earth would then a Heaven seem. 


49 


THE SIGH OF A SPENT SPIRIT. 


Ah, Life, 

Oftimes when you would have had me 
cry 

Hot, scalding tears from the heart and 
eye, 

I have cheated you and I’ve feigned a 
smile, 

Tho* my spirit was crushed and bruised 
the while. 

With the lips I have tried to smile and 
show 

To the world that your effort to bow 
me low 

Was of no avail, that I would not be 

Defeated and doomed to dull misery. 

But methinks sometimes, that perhaps 
you’ll win 

This game that you play with untiring 
vim, 

For the smile isn’t always easy to feign 

And someday, perhaps, I shall try— 
in vain. 

And it may be the victory is now to you. 

And you smile at the cheating I think 
I do 

As you sternly withhold from me, and 
deny 

The One Thing for which I hunger— 
and sigh. 


50 


The One Dream I cherish, you seem 
to withhold 

Have I seemed too spirited. Life,— 
over—bold ? 

When I bore your past thrusts, and 
feigned a smile— 

Is this your revenge—for all future 
while? 

Would it better have pleased you to 
see me spent 

My heart full crushed ’neath the blows 
you sent? 

I thought not to merit your endless hate 

By the fight I fought—yet still—I wait. 


51 


WHEN LOVE SHALL REIGN. 


When perfect love shall come into its own. 
And reign, supreme, in every human breast. 
Then will each life be full, each heart content. 
Filled with deep rest, 

When love shall reign. 

Then will the worlds grow quiet, subdued, serene. 
And foes be friends in calm, unbroken peace; 
’Tis then man’s inhumanity to man 
And to his God, will cease, 

And love shall reign. 

THE PARASITE. 

Who doth elect to take from life 
Each goodly gift and offering. 

Yet deigns no payment, is forsooth 
A Parasite—a worthless thing. 

Who drinks Life’s joy, yet gives to Life 
No strength, no gift that in him lies. 

Wins for himself the name that men 
Of noble worth and use despise. 


52 


‘SOLACE. 


The hopes that we cherished yesterday 
Sometimes are but shattered dreams—today. 
And the thing we counted so very dear 
Is snatched away—and our world is drear. 

So like to a shadow it vanished and left 
The soul bowed down and the heart bereft, 
And a cloud of doubt and a mist of dismay 
Hangs heavy, so heavy and dark—today. 

But slowly and surely the hurt and the tear 
Must fall away and the sky be clear. 

And the ache that lies in the heart just now 
Will be sweetly softened and soothed—some¬ 
how— 

And perhaps the why of our cross will be 
No longer a wonder and mystery, 

For the Power that brings the tear today 
Can as easily brush the tear away. 


53 


“SOME DAY OF DAYS.” 


Some day of days, tho’ Death may claim us first. 
We’ll lay aside the mask we don and wear. 
The mask that gives the brave and careless smile, 
That hides rebellion passionate, and guile. 

The mask that covers aching, tear-wet eyes. 
And breaking heart that breathes but bitter sighs, 
The mask that hides our sorrows, hurts and pains, 
Our disappointments, longings, fruitless aims, 
That all the world may not be over-wise, 

We wear this mask, tho* oftentimes it lies. 

But it must fall away, some day of days. 
Revealing clear our inmost soul and eyes. 
Baring to light our poor, tired tortured hearts, 
From which oft came such weary anguished cries, 
Cries that we smothered, unheard, unknown. 
That never another might know our moan. 

Over dreams long cherished, but all in vain. 
And hopes that were blighted, yet ever the pain 
Was hid ’neath the mask that wore but a smile— 
But alas—it will drop in the afterwhile. 


54 


THE LURE OF AUTUMN. 


The summer time is over an’ the Autumn days 
are here. 

An’ there’s somethin’ appetizin’ ’bout the coolin’ 
atmosphere, 

The sun ain’t quite so glarin’ and the frost is 
cornin’ on 

Nippin’ off the grass and flowers till they’ll 
purty soon be gone, 

The leaves is takin* color like a rainbow over¬ 
head 

Some a changin’ green to yeller, some to brown 
and gold and red, 

Some are failin’ from the branches, some are 
still a hangin’ tight 

Like they’s tellin* Mr. North Wind they’re a 
stickin’ jist fer spite. 


The medders an’ the cornfields are a rich an* 
han’some sight 

An’ a artist couldn’t pictur* Autumn landscape 
zactly right, 

’Cause its colorin’ is finer and more pleasin’ to 
my eye 

Than a painter’d ever make it, matters not how 
hard he’d try. 

The hickernuts is failin’ and the walnuts rattlin’ 
down 

Sorter playin’ hide-and-seek among the leaves 
upon the ground. 


55 


An’ the pumkins an’ the paw-paws and persim¬ 
mons, goodness me, 

Nuthin’ better ever hung itself upon a vine or 
tree. 

The air’s so keen and bitin* sorter crispy like 
and bracin’ 

An’ you feel like movin’ mountains an’ a runnin’ 
an* a racin’ 

An* when daylight turns to darkness an’ the Au¬ 
tumn moon comes out. 

It’s the purtiest sight ’neath Heaven, ’thout a 
question or a doubt, 

I’ve heard some folks aint likin’ these here airly 
Autumn days. 

Talkin’ ’bout’ em bein’ sad-like with their mel- 
ankoly ways. 

But it somehow suits me perfeck, tho’ I can’t 
jist give a reason, 

An* to me the year ain’t nuthin* ’less it’s got a 
Autumn season. 


56 


“THE BIGGEST MAN. 


There are men in the lower berth of life 
Who are bigger men by far. 

Than some who lounge in the upper berth 
Or ride in the parlor car. 

There are men who walk in unseen paths, 
’Neath the weight of duty’s load 
Who are bigger than some who walk care-free 
In the big wide, open road. 

There are men who hold but lowly place 
In the world’s great scheme and plan 
Who are bigger than some with wealth and fame 
And power at their command. 

There are men who march with courage on 
Thro’ misfortune’s cruel days. 

Who are bigger than some who are wafted high 
On the wings of the world’s loud praise. 

It’s the man who treads his daily path 
With steady and faithful aim 
Who calls no halt when duty stern 
Holds firm and ruthless claim, 

And the man whose work is of little things, 
The tiresome things that weigh. 

Who puts a heart and a soul in his task. 

Is the biggest man of the day. 


57 


‘A CHRISTMAS LILT.” 


I may not bring rich gifts or offerings rare. 

But kindly thoughts and love, my pen would bear 
To you, this Christmas-tide. 

Deep from my soul I’d waft across your way 
A friendly wish, a cheery word to say 
May peace and joy abide. 

May clear, sweet Christmas chimes, in notes of 
song 

Find echo in your heart, to linger long, 

With charm anew. 

And may each dream, throughout the unborn 
year. 

Each longing and each hope you hold most dear. 
Come richly true. 


58 


“IN DAYS TO COME. 


Perhaps we will smile in the after years 
At the things that now only bring us tears, 
Perhaps the burdens we have today 
And the cares that fill our souls with dismay 
Shall seem as naught in the after-while 
And instead of a tear, perhaps we can smile. 

Perhaps as the days shall grow into years 
Our doubts, our hurts, and our haunting fears 
May vanish as shadows that flit away 
As we walk in the light of a clearer day. 

And the rose-hued dreams that never come true 
Over these, perhaps, we can smile, then, too. 

The irksome things, the petty trials, 

Our losses and crosses, and self-denials. 

All these, perhaps, in the after-while 
May be recalled with a tender smile, 

So changed, so different, they’ll seem—some¬ 
how. 

These clouds that darken our sky just now. 

And the shattered hopes, the sorrows, the pain 
That we know today, may seem not in vain 
When in years to come, with an humbler heart 
We think o’er the hurts that have been our part, 
And even as memories shall linger near 
Perhaps we can mingle a smile with a tear. 


59 


“ACROSS THE YEARS.” 

Across the years, thy Spirit calls. 

Thy face I see, in memory. 

With lips that smile so tenderly, 

And eyes that bright with love-light shine, 
Across the years, 

O Love o’ Mine. 

Across the years, thou knowest well 
My every bitter, anguished cry, 

My every weary, longing sigh. 

So close do memories’ ties entwine. 

Across the years, 

O Love o’ Mine. 

Across the years when misty tears 
Bedim my eye, thou callest me. 

My hand to clasp in sympathy. 

My heart to cheer with words of thine, 
Across the years, 

O Love o* Mine. 

Across the years, thy voice I hear 
In songs of sweetest melody, 

My weary heart’s soft lullaby 
That fills my soul with peace divine 
Across the years, 

O Love o’ Mine. 


60 


“UNSEEN SHADOWS. 


One never can tell what ache there may be 
In the heart of another who seems care-free. 
One can’t always judge by a genial smile 
That nothing of hurt’s in a soul all the while. 
The shadow of gloom or a threatening cloud 
May hang o’er the gayest in all the vast crowd. 


The laughter which lips and eyes may hold 
May be but a mask for the tears they enfold. 
That one who so often seems happy and glad 
May daily be haunted by memories sad. 

Not always the one who knows life’s harshest 
part 

Reveals the keen sorrow that lies in his heart. 

That one who drinks deepest of grief and of 
sadness 

Doth seldom parade it to mar the world’s glad¬ 
ness, 

But, softened to kindness, his own bitter tear 
Is soothed by the giving of love and of cheer. 
For ’tis but the lesson from hurts that have been 
That makes us feel truly that all men are kin. 


That one who acquaints you with burdens his 
own 

Who dins in your ears all the trials he’s known, 
Forsooth is not he who has tasted full deep 


61 


Of the keenest, most crushing of life’s tragic 
heap, 

A smile to the world by the lips is expressed 
Full oft when the heart holds a hurt never 
guessed. 


62 


‘FAITH. 


If you can live thro’ years of toil and pain 
Wherein dull loss exceeds the seeming gain. 
Thro’ years of labor, racked with heavy care 
And burdens which, unthanked, you daily bear. 
Thro’ years when duty grim and stern holds 
sway 

With never time for pleasure’s brightening ray, 
Thro’ years when sacrifice makes longings seem 
Like to a useless, unfulfilled and empty dream, 
Thro’ years of time which cast across your way 
But sombre threatening shadows, dull and gray. 
If thus you live, thro’ long monotonous years, 
And let no doubts, rebellion, haunting fears 
Crowd hope and trust, serene, from out your 
heart. 

In reverence I bow 

And call that Faith. 

If light and love are swept from out your life 
By adverse fate that plunges deep its knife, 
That takes from you those things you richly prize 
And leaves but loneliness and tears and sighs, 
If all the loved which you count dear and true 
Are snatched, with warning none, away from you. 
If sore affliction’s heavy hand be laid 
Upon your soul till health and strength must fade. 
Or if those senses keen which make life bright 
Be dulled, till naught remains but pain and blight. 
If these you bear, while days grow into years, 


63 


And let not doubts, rebellion, haunting fears 
Crowd hope and trust serene, from out your 
heart. 

In reverence I bow 
And call that Faith. 


64 


“ALL ELSE FORGOT.” 


The Mists of Grey will some day part—and lo— 
For every Soul the Veil of Night be raised, 

*Tis then that we shall stand in waiting line 
Before the Judge to be, by Him, appraised. 

’Tis then we’ll see the emptiness of gold. 

Of treasure and of glory and of fame. 

For these, in our behalf, shall count for naught, 
The Judge will say their power is void, in vain. 

The Soul in flight so swift from earthly home 
To enter realms beyond, unknown, above. 

Can bear upon its wings one thing alone, 

And that one thing—all else forgot—is Love. 

“A LINE O’ CHEER.” 

Just a friendly word and a kindly smile. 

And a handclasp sure and strong, 

And our dull old world seems a dear old world, 
And we smile as we pass along. 

Here’s a word, here’s a smile, here’s a hand¬ 
clasp, too; 

May they brighten the world a bit for you. 
Just pass them on as you journey along. 

That another may join in your heart’s glad 
song. 


65 


T H ANKS-LIVIN G. 


It’s fitting quite to set aside a day for our Thanks¬ 
giving, 

But wouldn’t every day be glad if heaped full 
of Thanksliving, 

If we would live our thankfulness thro* all the 
passing year, 

And let our actions speak aloud our gratitude 
sincere, 

I think God would be better pleased, I believe 
He’d oftener smile 

If we’d adopt and keep each day, Thanksliv¬ 
ing for our style. 

So many glorious blessings, so many goodly things 

Are ours each day and yet our heart no song 
of praise ere sings, 

So many trials and crosses we well deserve to 
bear. 

Yet Providence withholds from us and sends 
the lighter share, 

For these we owe Thanksliving with spirit hum¬ 
bly meek 

As well as that Thanksgiving which we in words 
may speak. 

Oh, truly good it is to hold a day for our Thanks¬ 
giving, 

And on that day why not resolve to do more 
of Thanksliving, 


66 


Not merely words from contrite hearts can ever 
deeply show 

True gratitude for gifts and joys which we are 
given to know. 

It’s living thanks and saying thanks, in actions 
day by day 

That somehow seems to me to be the best Thanks¬ 
giving way. 


67 


OUT OUR WAY. 


The world is all akin 
Out our way, 

Most of us err a bit 
Out our way. 

Not one of us is perfect quite 
We’re human, but our hearts are right 
And somehow, faults seem rather slight 
Out our way. 

We toil and shoulder cares 
Out our way. 

But tasks don’t pall, and self’s forgot 
Out our way. 

In helping folks and lending cheer. 

In clasping hands thro’ every fear. 

And mingling close, in smile or tear 
Out our way. 

Giving love and getting love 
Out our way 

Seems to be the thing that counts 
Out our way, 

Deeming rank and gold but slight 
Holding to the cause of right 
Love’s tie binds us mighty tight 
Out our way. 

We don’t care so much for show 
Out our way. 


68 


Happiness is more worth while 
Out our way. 

Deep contentment somehow seems 
Most to figure in our dreams 
And life’s full of sunlit gleams 
Out our way. 

And our way is your way too 
Friend O’ Mine, 

It’s the way of human life 
And it’s fine. 

Folks may differ, one by one. 
But when all is said and done. 
Hearts by Love can best be won 
Out any way. 


69 


“A SIGN OF THE TIMES.” 


When a barefoot boy first comes in sight 
It’s a putry good sign of spring all right, 

’Taint jes’ the green and the trees that say 
When the cold gray winter has passed away, 
It’s the boy with his feet all bare and free 
That’s the surest sign of spring to me. 

An* I see when first his shoes are shed 
That he steps along with a soft-like tread. 

But a week ain’t passed till the clean white glow 
Of his legs is gone, and maybe a toe 
Gits bruised all black the very first day, 

Or a hunk of skin gets torn away. 

An’ his hide gits red and freckled and tough 
While he hikes over hills and roads all rough, 
With never a care for rocks and thorns, 

’An he brags if a seven inch cut adorns 
His stem of a leg, for it goes to show 
He’s a plucky kid—he’d have you know. 

An’ he puffs all up if you ask him why 
There’s never a glimpse of a tear in his eye, 
An* the blacker with dirt his toes can git 
The better he likes the sport of it. 

An* there’s never a pool of water or mud 
That escapes the feel of his barefoot’s thud. 

Oh, it’s true there’s plenty of signs to say 
When the spring sunshine has come to stay, 

But there’s none can speak so plain and true 
As the sight of the barefoot boy can do. 

An* it sorter takes me back to the day 

70 


Of childhood joy and childhood play. 

An* a feel comes creepin* around my heart 
Like a tear drop might be agoin’ to start. 
An’ I wish to myself, plum thro* an* thro* 
That I wuz a barefoot youngster, too. 


71 


I WISH— 


Oh, gee, I wish I was a kid with a dirty face 
and a battered lid. 

With freckles all around my nose and chilblains 
on most all my toes, 

I wish I had a wart or two on both my hands 
or one would do, 

I wish I had some buttered bread with jam heaped 
most high as my head 

I wish I had a pretty pup a little more than 
half grown up. 

All spotted white and black or yellow, a little 
flop-eared, bobtailed fellow. 


I wish I was in school again to shoot a paper 
wad or pin, 

I’d like to hitch my sled behind a rig or car I 
wouldn’t mind. 

Just so it pulled me for a ride for, gee, I like 
to coast and slide. 

I wish I had a knife and gun and marbles, too, 
they’re lots of fun. 

And fight, oh my, just once again, I’d like to 
lick my old chum Ben, 

Course mine might be the bloody nose, but that’s 
not fatal, goodness knows. 


I want to climb the tallest trees from limb to 
limb just as I please 


72 


I want to get home late for tea and have my 
Daddy scold at me, 

I want to hear my Mother say. Don’t dear, he’s 
just been out at play. 

And when a circus comes to town I want to 
watch and hang aroun* 

I want to believe in Santa Claus instead of 
knowing he’s pas and mas 

And oh, there’s reasons by the mile for want¬ 
ing to be a kid awhile. 


16 


‘AUTUMN.” 


Grey days and gold. 

From autumn’s fold 
Approach with winged feet 
And swiftly meet, 

Some bright and fair, some bleak and cold. 

Brown leaves and red 
To autumn’s bed 
Take flight and fall. 

Heeding the call, 

To join chill frost’s benumbed and stricken dead. 

Thus in her russet gown 
Claiming renown, 

Comes autumn, light and bold. 

Hastening to unfold 

Shades purple, red and green, pale gold and 
brown. 


74 


THE LAND OF DREAMS. 

The land of dreams is a spirit land. 

The picture land of fanciful sleep, 

A realm of mysteries strange and deep, 

A world where sounds and shadows meet, 

And gleam and flit and seem to say 
“I’m only a dream, I will not stay.” 

Tis a world of the present, a world of the past, 
A realm of music now grave, now gay. 

Of shapes and forms that glide and play. 

Of fancies and voices soft and low. 

Familiar or strange as they seem to say 
“I’m only a dream, I will not stay.” 

’Tis like to a wizard’s magic glass, 

Where thoughts and visions and sights all seem 
To mingle and float in an endless stream, 

With scenes and faces of friends and foes 
That smile or frown as they seem to say 
“I’m only a dream, I will not stay.” 


75 


HUMILITY. 


Whatever skill or talent 
In me lies, 

I owe to Him, Omnipotent, 
All-wise, 

Whatever gleam of light 
May somehow, shine 
From out myself, reflects 
His power, not mine. 

Whatever worth or gift 
I chance to hold, 

Is but a hidden thing 
I must unfold, 

No credit do I sing. 

Or merit claim, 

Tis but a Something given 
For noble aim, 

A treasure rich, a trust 
To use at will, 

Tis mine to say if turned 
For good or ill, 

A precious privilege I deem 
Such gracious loan, 

Such gift entrusted me 
Is honor shown. 


76 


I know not why such favor 
Falls to me. 

Some purpose is, I may 
Not know or see. 

Oh, may I prove the trust 
Not placed in vain. 

And at His feet I’ll lay 
With joy, the fame. 


77 


UNREFLECTED GLORY. 

I guess it is no sin to speak 
Uf what some fine ancestor done, 

An’ if a feller boasts a bit 
I reckon it’s jes natcherall some, 

But after all what claim have we 
To glory that our fathers won? 

Jes cause they made a noble name 
Ain’t makin’ us a noble one. 

Whatever honor fell to them 
Was not by chance and luck so fine. 
They had to show some pluck and grit 
To get such honor I opine, 

If they had tried to sail along 
On glory that their dads had gained 
We couldn’t point to them in pride, 

I guess we’d be a bit ashamed. 

And so when others backward look. 
Upon our lives in future days. 

We’ve got to leave some record good. 
If we expect a song of praise. 

We needn’t figure that the stars 
That shone within our fathers crown 
Will cast a radiance in our own 
Or win for us aught of renown. 


78 


Whate’er of noble worth or good 
Was done by them or somehow gained. 
Won’t count a whit in our behalf, 

It’s what we have, ourselves, attained. 
It’s what we do, ourselves, that counts, 
Not noble birth or family fame. 

That puts us on the honored list 
Or makes illustrious our name. 


79 


“HOPE.” 


Oh Death, when thou dost call for me, 

I hope to meet thee with a smile. 

The same glad smile I’d like to wear 
Thro’ all the endless afterwhile. 

“GRIEVE NOT.” 

Grieve not for those whose souls take flight 
From earthly care, 

’Tis but their lot to enter first a world 
More fair. 

Ere we shall join them ’tis but 
Little while. 

For this glad thought cease thou thy tears 
And smile. 

With beaming eyes they watch when we shall 
come. 

And stand 

Awaiting—just within the gate to clasp 
Our hand. 


80 


THE ALTERNATIVE. 


Yesterday, I wept. 

My heart sore crushed 
By storms that swept 
It in their path. 

Such tears I shed. 

Dear, Pitying God, 

I bowed my head 
In deepest agony. 

Yet naught availed. 

My moanings failed 
To heal the hurt 
My heart had felt. 

Today, I’ll smile. 

What need to weep 
It only makes the while 
Seem long and drear, 

I may as well be glad 
And laugh and sing. 
Lend some heart sad 
Some comforting. 

This may avail 
Where moanings fail 
To heal the scar 
My own heart bears. 


81 


‘A GLINT O’ SUN.” 


A misty day 
Of frozen gray. 

And the world seems void of cheer. 

A glint o’ sun 
Ere the day is done. 

And the world seems bright and dear. 

A dismal sigh, 

A shadowed sky. 

And the world seems filled with sadness. 

A kindly smile 

And life’s worth while. 

And the world seems filled with gladness. 

A promise broken, 

A sharp word spoken. 

And the heart is fraught with sorrow. 

A friendly word 

Like the song of a bird, 

Brings a promise glad for the morrow. 

The densest shroud 

Of misty cloud 

By a sunbeam can be rifted. 

A glint o’ sun 
Ere the day is done. 

Leaves many a heart uplifted. 


82 


“ESSENCE OF LIFE.” 

Roses may bloom about you and shed 
Their fragrance sweet—and overhead 
The sun may shine in splendor rare. 
While sun-kissed breezes fill the air. 

A sky of clear, unshadowed blue 
May be life’s chosen gift for you. 

Yet all nor one of these can be 
Like human love to you or me. 

No balm they bring* to satisfy 
When sorrows’ tears bedim the eye. 

No friendly word, no handclasp true 
They give when joys are come to you. 
No gladsome smile, no kindly thought 
Into your life can come thro* aught 
Save human lips and human hearts. 

No other thing such joy imparts. 

Nor is a love possessed, the whole. 

To give a love deep from your soul. 
To scatter sympathy and cheer. 

To walk with folks and mingle near. 
Brings yet more peace unto the heart 
Than were so much of love its part. 

A piteous thing—this love-lorn cry. 
That human touch must satisfy. 


83 


THE LITTLE TOWN. 


You kin talk about yer cities an’ their han’som 
sights an’ such. 

But I like the little village, tho’ it kant boast 
quite so much 

’Bout its fine and stately struckters and its things 
of high renown, 

But to me ther’s somethin’ homey, ’bout the lit¬ 
tle country town. 

An’ the folks that live in cities, what a lot of 
’em ther be. 

Fillin’ all the streets an’ places, jest as far as 
you ken see, 

Hurryin’ scurryin’ ’long their way, wrapped up 
in theirselves so tight 

Thet they never seem to notice when a feller’s 
lonesom’ like. 


Course ther’s lots o’ modern fancies so life’s eas¬ 
ier to live. 

An’ ther’s luxuries an’ pleasures that a little town 
don’t give. 

But I’d ruther do without ’em, sorter struggle 
long with less, 

Ef it means I gotta forfeit all my old home 
friends’ kindness. 

For ther’s somethin’ kinda touchy ’bout the old 
home folks and tilings 

An* a lovin’ sort o’ feelin’ that the city never 
brings, 


84 


An’ if it’s staid and dreamy, then I’d ruther 
have it so, 

Coz it gives you time to think a bit an’ make 
friends as you go. 


An’ the scen’ry in the city, what a difference 
there be. 

Taint like nature somehow made it, thet is plain 
enuff to see. 

Course it’s purty in its grandness an’ its value 
*s maybe greater, 

But I like the natcherel wonders thet was put 
by the Creator. 

The hills an’ trees an’ grasses, an’ the flowers 
growin’ wild. 

Seems as how I like to see ’em same as when I 
wuz a child. 

An’ the stars an’ sky an* sunlight, why they’re 
most nigh hid from sight 

By the city’s big skyscrapers an’ its artificial light. 

Now I hear some folks a sayin’ things agin the 
little town, 

How it seems so slow and sleepy like a clock 
thet’s ’bout run down. 

How its pleasures aint enticin’ like the city bright 
an’ gay. 

An’ a wonderin’ how the people ever while their 
time away. 

Well, I don’t know how to say it, but I guess 
a feller’s mind 


85 


Has a lot to do with how he whiles away his 
life an’ time, 

So I s’pose it’s all dependin’ on yer feelins, how 
they be, 

But ther’s somethin’ dear an* homey ’bout the 
little town to me. 


86 


“CAST THOU NO STONE. 


Cast thou no stone, when first thy brother falls, 
Judge not his soul to bear a deep-dyed stain. 
Thou canst not see the depths of his true heart. 
Nor read the workings of his mind and brain. 

The slight mis-step which you may judge a fall 
May only prove his strength to firmer stand, 
Hadst thou thy brother’s nature, heart and mind. 
Then couldst thou better judge and understand. 

Hast thou sure hold, and dost thou never fall. 
Nor take some faltering step in life’s quicksand. 
Take heed unto thyself—and thine own sins. 
Cast thou no stone, but give a helping hand. 

Let him who sinneth not, cast stones the first. 
Let him best judge a brother lost or stained. 
For what in our dim sight may seem black scars. 
May be but noble marks of battles gained. 


87 


THE CYCLE. 

Laughter and tears. 
Losses and gains, 

Hopes and fears 
Pleasures and pains, 
These make our years. 
And Life—wanes. 

Glad days and sad days. 
Grey skies and gold. 
Shadows and sun-rays. 
Love warm or cold. 

Meet ’cross our ways 
And youth grows old. 


88 


“THE CHRISTIAN CONCEPT.” 

Not merely molded clay 

In man-like form, am I, 

I am Life, 

Reflex of God’s immortal Mind, 
Eternal and Divine. 

Made in the likeness 

And true Image of God, 

I am Spirit, 

Breathed, through His plan 
Into the man. 

E’en tho’ the mortal cast 

Enfolding me, may fall 
Into decay, 

I yet shall live, I cannot die, 
Undying Soul am I. 


89 


THE RIGHT TO JOY." 


When the heart is pure and the soul stands clean 
With a wholesome steady truth, 

A man has a right to laughter and joy. 

Like the days of innocent youth, 

When the eyes reflect the light of faith. 

And joy in the things of today. 

When they bear no cloud of tomorrow’s doubt, 
Nor regret of the yesterday. 

When the soul rests calm in a peace serene, 
Well knowing no guilt or blame 
Can cast tis darkening shadow or leave 
The branding scar of shame. 

No joy like that from a conscience clear. 

No scourge like remorse and regret. 

And the heart once burned with their stinging 
bite 

Can never entirely forget. 

And the music of laughter lessens and fades 
When doubt and regret abide. 

And mirth seems a mockery hollow and grim. 
The ghost of a thing that has died. 

For a man but forfeits his claim to joy 
And his right to laugh and sing. 

When he scars his soul with the memories dark 
That sin and reproach must bring. 


90 


LET’S BE GLAD; 


In the year that’s just beginning. 

Let’s be glad. 

Let’s just lay aside each fear. 

Let’s put by each useless tear, 

And through all the coming year 
Let’s be glad. 

Let’s build for ourselves a lock-box. 
Safe and strong, 

Then put all our heartaches in it. 
Under padlock every minute. 

Now—today—let’s all begin it, 

And be glad. 

Let’s put in those dreams we have 
That count for naught, 

Bitter, unkind thoughts we bear 
Toward another, anywhere— 

Let’s just put them all in there. 

And be glad. 

Let’s drop in regrets and worries. 
And each care. 

All our failures, self-denials, 

All our bitter cups and trials. 
Everything—except our smiles— 
Then be glad. 


91 


“TRUE GREATNESS.” 


The measure of your greatness 
Is the love you bear and show 
Toward your brothers and your neighbors 
As through life you go. 

No crown, no garb, no coin, no fame. 

Can win for you so great a name 
As cheering words or a helpful deed 
Or a bit o’ love to a heart in need. 

The world may never sing your praise 
Nor a monument over your form e’er raise, 
You may not do great wondrous things 
But an humble service that somehow brings 
One beam of cheer or even a smile 
May be well counted worth your while. 

Keep step with your brother from day to day. 
Don’t let your shadow be cast ’cross his way. 

You may not build a church nor place 
Where friends, in memory see your face. 

You may not write a book nor give 
To folks a creed on how to live. 

But your sense of the value of human life 
Is the test of your worth in the world and its 
strife. 

Living love toward all, toward none disdain 
Is the measure of highest greatness and fame. 


92 


“WHEN GOD MAY LAUGH.” 

Fate brought a bitter cup near to my lips 
One day—I wept—then prayed 
To God, and begged that such from me might 
pass. 

And promises I made. 

I promised vows of faith and service true 
Might I be spared this fate, 

I vowed to give my life to loving deeds 
That they might compensate. 

The cup passed by—and life again was bright. 
Soon pleasures filled my mind. 

And—I forgot those promises I made 
To thwart a fate unkind. 

The years have passed—I see in shame and fear 
The error of my way, 

My heart in anguish longs to make amends. 
Will God but laugh now, if I pray? 


93 


“A CHRISTMAS THOUGHT.” 


Once again the Christmas herald clear is heard. 
Yet it seems but just a day 
Since the old year sped away. 

And now too soon another will have passed, 

’Tis somehow a wee bit sad, 

Tho’ perhaps we should be glad, 

As old time flits by so very quick and fast. 

For the yule-tide’s place in life counts much in 
love. 

And it’s joys are all its own. 

Just the sweetest ever known, 

With a cheer that other seasons cannot bring. 
So altho’ the years must fly, 

Let’s not grieve, let’s not sigh 
As the clear, sweet Christmas bells again shall 
ring. 

Let us hope that every heart may beat with joy. 
Yet, should care on any press. 

May the Christmas Shepherd bless. 

And bring much of consolation sweet to them. 
While with spirit nobly fine. 

May good will and love combine 
To make just and right the thoughts and deeds 
of men. 


94 


“THE CONSCIENCE. 


Man is a wandering pilgrim 

With Conscience his beckoning light. 

Thro* forests and thickets it leads him, 

But always it keeps to the right. 

Never in paths that are crooked. 

Never in steps that are wrong. 

Does it guide him, but ever it chooses. 

The right road, tho* sometimes *tis long. 

Man is a lonely voyager. 

Conscience his compass and guide, 

Tho’ storms sweep his ship on its journey 
His compass remains by his side, 

Tho’ his sails may be wrecked and destroyed. 
While danger and death near him sweep, 

Yet ever he’s safe on his voyage 
If his compass he’ll carefully keep. 

The gift of a conscience is precious, 

’Tis like to the soul’s seeing eye, 

’Tis witness and judge and jury. 

And always its presence is by. 

No scourge like a guilty conscience. 

No joy like the peaceful rest 

That the voyager knows as he follows, 

The guide that is sure and best. 


95 


“’ROUND THE CORNER.” 


There’s a quaint little house ’round the corner. 
Not big or pretentious or grand, 

Just one of those nice, homey places; 

You’ve seen them—you’ll understand. 

The rooms are not fine or showy, 

But my, they are fixed ’zactly right, 

And you feel like you want to stay always. 
Things seem just so cosy and bright. 

The beds and the chairs are old timey. 

And rag carpets cover the floor. 

And things ain’t as new as they might be. 

But once they were sometime before. 

But Granny, she keeps things so clean-ey. 

With windows and mirrors so bright, 

And fat feather beds that just make you 
Get sleepy ’way before night. 

And cooking—well Granny’s a wonder, 

She knows everything old and new, 

Tho’ she never took Science Domestic 
In college, like some folks do. 

And supper at her house is heavenly, 

I just love to stay there and eat. 

And cleaning up dishes ain’t tiresome, 

The kitchen’s so spicy and sweet. 


96 


So somehow my house ’round the corner 
Is different from others I know, 

It seems so much cheerful-er and homey, 

I think that’s why I like it so. 

I call it my house ’round the corner. 
Although there are others there too. 

But seems like I always forget them, 
Tho* maybe they’d better please you. 


97 


PERVERSITY.” 


Life, you are ruthless, hard, 

And yet I love you much, 
Despite your cruel touch, 

Which turns my joy and gain 
To aching void and pain. 

You snatch and take from me. 
Those things I fondly prize. 
Despite my anguished cries, 

And leave to me no thing 
To soothe the burning sting. 

You bow my heart in grief, 
Torture my mind with fears. 
Weaken my strength with years, 
The while but memories stay. 
That shroud my soul in gray. 

And yet I love you. Life, 
Despite your cruel touch, 

I love you very much, 

Whate’er of hurt you give, 

Yet do I plead to live. 


98 


TODAY. 


Today passed by almost before it came. 

And I had planned so much to do and say. 
There were an hundred things I’m very sure. 
That I had planned to do today. 

I’ve tried to think just where the hours went. 
Each moment found me busy in some way. 
And yet I haven’t done a small tenth part. 

Of things that I had planned to do today. 

I thought perhaps that I would see a friend or 
two, 

Perhaps some debt of love I might repay, 
Or maybe I would gain a friend anew. 

By some slight word or kindly act today. 

But now today like yesterday is gone. 

In much the same unfinished fleeting way, 

I wonder if tomorrow’s eve will find 

Undone, the things that I had planned today. 


99 


‘GAUZE GODS.” 


We follow a flimsy fancy, 

We worship a God of Gauze, 

Our very soul we lay at its feet 
A helot, a slave to its laws. 

It draws us with wily temptings. 
Alluring, enticingly fair. 

This graven thing, this God of Gauze 
To which we make our prayer. 

“I’m the God to worship and follow 
Cries the God of Worldly Fame, 

What more can man desire or wish 
Than praise and a noted name? 

“Nay, nay, cries the God of Pleasure, 
Just bow your knee to me; 

I’ll make your life one joyous round 
Of gay, glad ecstacy. 

“Stay, hearken to me I beg you. 

Behold me, the God of Power, 

I’ll make you ruler and king of men 
If you idolize me each hour. 

“Oh, ho, I can buy those offerings 
And a million joys unfold, 

To all who make me their Idol 
Exclaims the God of Gold. 


100 


And so it is that the Gauze Gods, 

These and others like them 
Win fervent followers daily 
From the ranks and files of men. 

And each God winks at each winning, 

And says to himself in glee, 

“Another poor soul, who won’t see thro’ 

The flimsy, gauze cloak of me.’’ 

He wants what I offer, so keenly. 

He’s foolishly passing by 

The Gods of Truth, Good Will, and Right, 

(They are truer, far, than I,) 

And the God of Love, he’s ignoring. 

That’s the God with the Great Offering, 

But—it isn’t my place to tell him 
I’m only a thin, gauze thing.” 


101 


“LIFE’S LOVE KNOTS.” 


Each life has its own little love knots. 

Its tangles that often grow tight. 

And sometimes much effort is needed 
To straighten the ends aright. 

The misunderstandings and jarrings 

With loved ones and friends ’long our way. 
Are but love knots and troublesome tangles. 
Which we must unravel each day. 

The twist may be thoughtless and very slight 
That’s given the love-tie dear. 

Or it may be the cords are more harshly pulled, 
Thus making the knot appear. 

’Tis better to try to untie it at once, 

Just the moment it comes to view, 

Else the tangle grows only the tighter, 

And the harder it is to undo. 

Delay and much brooding but harden 
The tangle that first is slight. 

No love-tie can ever stay knotted. 

If the will to unloose it is right. 


102 


“THE COME-BACK.” 


Like to a wind-tossed leaf is the Soul 
That wanders from Right’s straight track. 
And like the leaf, at the will of the wind. 

So the Soul may turn and come back. 

The same strength of will that a man displays. 
As he travels in paths of wrong. 

If turned about and directed towards Right, 
Will prove just as sure and strong. 

The same wind that carries the leaf thro’ space. 
On its whip and lash and rack, 

Tho’ it waft it on ’cross thickets and hills. 

Can as easily whirl it back. 

But unlike the leaf, which must wait on the wind, 
To toss it again to its place. 

The Soul has the power, thro’ a will of its own. 
To turn, and its steps retrace. 

Tho’ it wander far thro’ forests and swamps. 
Miles away from the straight, narrow track. 
There’s always a choice, ere its strength be full 
spent. 

To right about face, and come back. 


103 


“MY CREED.” 


Let me give to the world the best that I can. 

Let me walk with my brothers hand in hand. 

Let me watch and labor and strive each day. 

To use life aright in a purposeful way. 

Let me mingle and walk with the common crowd. 
Nor take up my stand alone with the proud, 
Whatever of burdens my brothers must bear 
Let me feel that I, too, must shoulder a share. 

Let me give to my friend a rose today, 

Nor wait till his form is but lifeless clay. 

My message of cheer to him now let it bear. 

Let me waste not its fragrance alone on the air. • 

Let me live, let me love, let me give, let me work, 
Tho’ my duty be hard, let me never shirk, 

Let me cast no stone, let me judge no man. 

Let me lend to the fallen a helping hand. 

Let my faith be firm and my heart be light. 

And my courage strong in the cause of right. 

Let me pattern my life from the Master Man, 
Let me give to the world the best that I can. 


104 


“THE PRESENT.” 


There may be some happy morrows 
Round the bend just over there. 

But there’s heaps of gladness lurking 
In Today—somewhere. 

Let’s search until we find it, 

Then drink our share. 

Ere tomorrow’s sun is risen 
And Today is—where? 

Life may hold some future moments, 
Rich with joyous love and bliss, 

But their lure cannot persuade me 
Present joys to miss. 

For it’s such a fleeting moment 
Till tomorrow is today. 

And the present and its glory. 

Will have slipped away. 

Morrows are so dim and hazy, 

Like a far-off distant land. 

But today with all its glory’s 
Like a bird within the hand, 

And tho’ hosts of glad tomorrows 
Wait for us just over there. 

There’s a heap of gladness lurking 
In today—somewhere. 


105 


MIST O’ THE MORNING/’ 


Mist o’ the Morning 
I love thee. 

Beautiful grey Dawn 
Calling to me. 

Silent and tender. 

Gently a-wooing, 

Heart that is weary 
For Love’s renewing. 

Mist o’ the Morning, 
Herald of day. 

Shrouding earth’s face 
In mantle of grey. 
Soul-cries and longings. 
Dreams cherished much, 
Vanish with lightness 
’Neath thy soft touch. 

Fears are forgotten. 
Sweet, soothing balm, 
Comes with thy music. 
Restful and calm, 
Beautiful grey Dawn 
Calling to me. 

Mist o’ the Morning, 

I love thee. 


106 


“LIFE—DEATH.” 


A little toiling day by day, 

A little rest along the way, 

A little joy a little pain, 

A little loss a little gain, 

A little aching of the heart 
A little groping in the dark, 

A little love a little strife, 

And this we call our little Life. 

A little lessening of the years, 

A little weariness and tears, 

A little bending of the will, 

A little more of patience still, 

A little resignation calm, 

A little soothing, healing balm, 

A little weakening, failing breath. 

And folded hands—we call that Death. 


107 


“ECHOES OF YOUTH.” 


Sleeping—I dreamed, 

’Twas then it seemed 

Laughter and Love were returning, 

Memories awoke, 

Sweet voices spoke 

Words my heart cherished in yearning. 

Out of the Mist 

Lips I had kissed 

Called and whispered to me. 

Far ’cross the Past 
Hands I had clasped 
Beckoned and reached to me. 

Faces so dear 
Seemed ever near. 

Eyes speaking joy in their beaming, 
Echoes of Youth, 

Glad Love and Truth 

Made one sweet song of my dreaming. 


108 


“LITTLE OLD THINGS. 


It’s the constant grind of the little things. 

The little old daily duties and work. 

The little old things we’d like to shirk. 

That try our patience so. 

It isn’t the big easy things we do. 

Nor the things that glow with a rosy hue. 

Nor the things that are pleasing and fresh and 
new 

That prove the worth of us. 

The smile we wear when things go right. 

And the song we sing when the day is bright, 
When the heart beats free and glad and light. 
This isn’t a test of us. 

It’s the little old things and the daily grind. 
The same old things of the same old kind, 
That try our strength and our heart and mind, 
That prove the mettle of us. 

It’s the smile we wear when things go wrong. 
And the mood we’re in when the day is long, 
When we do the little old things with a song. 
That proves the worth of us. 


109 


THE NEW YEAR. 


The old year dies, 

It had its wild March winds and April rain, 
Symbols of life’s fitful storms and pain. 

Some days of scorching sun, some cold and drear, 
It brought—like unto life, a sigh, a tear. 

Yet flowers bloomed, and Spring brought sun¬ 
shine fair 

And Autumn came with golden tints so rare, 
And life was sweet and youth seemed very near 
On those glad days, throughout the passing year. 

The New Year dawns, 

A few March winds, some hours of April rain. 
Some trials, some hurts, some storms may burst 
again. 

But Spring is sure to come, and Autumn rare 
And each, within her hands, rich joys shall bear, 
Roses will bloom, and sweeter fragrance spread 
Perhaps, than that by last year’s blossoms shed. 
So may we hope that Life holds yet before us 
The best, in this New Year that’s dawning o’er 
us. 


110 


“FRIEND O’ MINE.” 

The world does not know your inner self, 

O friend o’ mine. 

It does not know the heart of you. 

Faithful and tender, kind and true. 

Willing and waiting and eager to do, 

O friend o’ Mine. 

It does not know the depth of your love, 

O friend o’ mine. 

It does not know when oft fell a tear 
That always you came and hovered near, 

And comforted me with a bit of cheer, 

O friend o’ Mine. 

It does not know how oft you were tried, 

O friend o’ mine, 

It does not know how you stood the test, 
Better and truer than all the rest, 

No—the world does not know you at your best, 
O friend o’ Mine. 


Ill 


THANKSGIVIN’. 


When I think about the troubles 
That could come to me that aint, 
I bow my head in meekness. 
Mighty thankful, tho’ I can’t 
Jest express my natural feelings 
Quite so well as some folks do 
But, Lord, I hope you’ll take it 
That I’m mighty thankful, too. 

I know I sometimes grumble 
An’ complain about my lot. 

An’ I get to thinkin* maybe 
I have surely been forgot. 

But when I get to weighin’ 

All these grievances I nurse, 

I feel, dear Lord, I’m lucky. 

For there’re others that are worse. 


The blessings that you give me 
Are a thousand times more fair 
Than I can ever merit 
As my true and worthy share. 
So when I seem forgetful 
Jest remind me. Lord, I pray. 
Of the things I’m not deservin’ 
That you haven’t took away. 


112 


And I want to say my thinkings 
And my thankings now to you, 
For givin* me the lesser 
Of the troubles as you do, 

An’ for all the million blessins 
That you strew across my way, 
I want to say I’m grateful. Lord, 
On this Thanksgiving Day. 


113 


THE LOAN OF LIFE.” 


My life is not my own, 

Tis but a gracious loan 

Which I must needs return in full some day. 
Tis given me to choose, 

How I this loan shall use, 

And whether interest high or low, 1*11 pay. 

If worthy use I make 
And not for self’s own sake. 

Then to my credit will this stand and hold. 
If I but squander time, 

Or talents that are mine. 

Then is my debt increased an hundred fold. 

No interest have I paid. 

I’ve used the loan—so made, 

I have but debits in my lender’s sight, 

How then shall I repay 
This debt I owe—someday. 

Ah, wise is he who uses life aright. 


114 


“THE HUMAN NEED.” 

Aint no use livin’ or ploddin’ along 
’Less you’ve got somebody loyal an’ strong. 
Ready an* willin’ and eager to share 
All o’ yer sunshine or shaders or care. 

Some loyal loved one or friend who’s true. 
Waitin’ to smile or to grieve with you. 

Life’s what we make it—folks often say, 
Somehow to me, tho’ taint all that way. 

Seems like it takes some heart that’s true 
To beat in response to the heart of you. 

Seems like yer dreams and doin’s an* plans 
Don’t matter much ’less some one understands. 

Pleasure, treasure, fame, rank or gold 
Somehow don’t ever quite seem to hold 
Half as much joy or gain for you 
’Thout there’s a near one to taste ’em too, 

So as I take it, life’s mighty bare 

Less there’s somebody, somewhere, to care. 


115 


“RETROSPECTION.” 

When the River of Dreams and love and Truth 
Calls to me 

And along with Youth 
I wander and walk by its waters bright 
That sparkle and glow with a silvery light. 

All shadows flee. 

As the Gate of the Past swings back once more 
And I pass inside, 

And again live o’er 

The dear, dead days that were gay and glad. 
And forget the tears and the things that are sad. 
Peace doth abide. 


116 


“THE AFTERMATH.” 

The house in silence stands. 

With darkened rooms and cold. 

While naught but death-like stillness fills the 
place. 

With curtains draped and drawn. 

And hearth fire long since gone. 

Bespeaking days when life and light kept pace. 

The vacant chairs but tell 
Of loved ones who have been— 

While cheerless halls recall with meaning clear. 
The brighter days that were, 

When all were gathered here. 

The Home—which Mother heart and hands 
made dear. 


117 


BEAUTY SPOTS. 


I know a man, stranger to fame, 

A man with rugged, homely face. 

He lives his life in manner plain, 

In rank he holds but lowly place. 

His hands show honest work and toil. 

Full well he knows the weight of woes. 

Yet beauty spots of heart and soul 
Win for him friends where’er he goes. 

With love unselfish, staunch and true, 

To all he doth each day impart, 

A courage fine, a steady faith 

From the depths of an understanding heart, 

The patience calm, the kindly trust, 

The helping hand he lends in strife. 

The cheering smile and the handclasp strong. 
Are the beauty spots of his daily life. 

He meets his brother’s every need. 

He hears his neighbor’s every call. 

No cries go forth for help or cheer 
But that he heeds them one and all, 

Tis beauty spots like these that win 
For him a firm and lasting place. 

Within the memories of men 
That death nor years can e’er erase. 


118 


“SOLITUDE.’ 


’Tis well that we should quiet moments have, 
In which to bare the inmost soul to light. 

And if aught dwell therein which is not good, 
’Tis well to drive it out ere it cast blight. 

Shut in from busy scenes and noisy sounds 
’Tis well, in solitude, to pause and weigh 
E’en for the fragment of one fleeting hour. 

All that the heart hath gathered thru the day. 




“COMPLETENESS.’’ 

It must be sweet to have a life 
Without regret. 

To feel that you have nobly lived 
And nobly met 

Life’s duties and each daily call, 
To know that none 
Were ever overlooked by you 
Or left undone. 


119 


ONE QUIET HOUR. 

E’en tho’ a world of wealth were mine. 
Or rank or crown, or fame or power, 
I think I yet would long and yearn 
Sometimes, for just one quiet hour. 

One little hour for rest and thought 
From out the day, or better yet 
When all the world lay fast asleep 
I fain would dream—and just forget. 

One daily hour of soft relief 

From worldly care and outward din. 
In which to cast out worthless seed 
My heart, perchance, had gathered in. 


120 


“TRIBUTE TO A NURSE.” 


She comes with soothing, tender hand. 
So well her heart doth understand 
Our hurts, our ills, our pain, our woe. 
The gentle nurse, we love to know. 

Not she who merely bears the name. 
But she who lives, in truth, the same. 

Dispensing sweetest charity 
Toward suffering, sick humanity. 

She falters not through day or night 
To make another’s life more bright. 
Upon the altar of her call 
She lays her time, her strength, her all. 

With self forgot, she lingers near 
To serve, to help with smiles and cheer. 
Her kindly sympathetic touch 
Bespeaking love and patience much. 
Akin to God—indeed is she— 

This bearer of sweet charity. 


121 


“JUST A LITTLE LOVE.” 


Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 
Just a little love—and 


the sun shines brighter, 
the heart beats lighter, 
the eye beams clearer, 
life seems dearer, 
faith is stronger, 
hope lasts longer, 
skies are bluer, 
clouds seem fewer, 
sorrow is lighter, 
joy grips tighter, 
dreams seem surer, 
the world seems purer, 
thoughts are cleaner, 
ardour is keener, 
strength is given, 
earth seems Heaven. 


122 


‘AN ALL-YEAR WISH.” 


Whatever thing you most desire, 
Whatever longing in you lies, 
Whatever dream you’d have come true, 
I hope the New Year satisfies. 

Whatever wish your heart may hold, 
Whatever hope you count as dear. 
These things—whatever they may be 
I hope may be fulfilled this year. 

Whatever hurt hath pierced your soul, 
Whatever failure, loss or pain. 

Hath come to you—I hope this year 
Will compensate with joy and gain. 

Whatever threatening cloud appears, 
Whatever shadow lingers nigh, 

I hope the New Year’s Sun will hide. 
And leave but rose-tints in your sky. 


123 


SMILES AND TEARS. 


It takes a lot of laughter, yet it takes some bit¬ 
ter tears 

To complete life’s lesson fully, thro’ the many 
days and years. 

For the one without the other fails to make the 
lesson right, 

They both must come to us, in life, the same as 
day and night. 

For a sorrow teaches something that a joy can 
never bring, 

Altho’ it takes away the smile and leaves a last¬ 
ing sting, 

Yet it broadens us and softens us and makes us 
understand 

The heartaches of the other folks when pressed 
by sorrow’s hand. 

It takes away the selfishness, the envy and the 
guile 

And makes us know that none of these are 
worth our precious while. 

Yes, the tears will teach us something that the 
laughter cannot bring. 

And tho’ the smile must needs return, the heart 
holds deep the sting. 


124 


MEMORIAL DAY. 

A day that opens the Gate of the Past 
Thro* which flock poignant memories fast. 

A day of rose-wreaths moistened well 
With heart-drawn tears that, in silence, fell. 

A day when we pause in loving thought 
That the broken chords may again be caught. 

A day when we clasp, in vision fair. 

The out-stretched hands that await us—There. 

A day when they seem so very near— 

These loved ones, we offer a rose—and a tear. 

A day when methinks they must surely see 
The ache in the heart of you and me. 


125 


SELF-SINS. 


Let me first cast from out my own self’s heart 
Whatever evil seed therein may be 
Ere I make haste to pick and pluck the mote 
Which in another’s eye, I chance to see. 

Let me. first peer deep into my soul 

And read full clear it’s holdings, day by day, 
Then let me weigh each thing, against and for, 
Ere I pass judgment on another’s way. 

Let me be just nor boast in pride of strength 
Against temptations which have passed me by, 
Some other one whom I condemn—perchance 
Is strong to shun the faults that in me lie. 

Let me take heed of mine own self’s domain 
And keep therein but seeds of love in bloom, 
And let me know no heart is wholly void 

Of some good seeds that find rich growth and 
room. 


126 


“SO LITTLE IT TAKES. 1 


Just a friendly smile. 

And life’s worth while 

And the long, rough road seems only a mile. 

Just a handclasp strong, 

And we journey along, 

With a lightened step and a heart of song. 

Just a word of cheer. 

And we lose our fear, 

And the lurking shadows disappear. 

Just a kindly thought. 

And the sky seems fraught 

With glints of gold from a sunbeam caught. 

Here’s a smile for you. 

And a handclasp too, 

Here’s a word and a thought sincere and true. 

Just pass them on 
As you journey along. 

Let the whole world join in your glad heart’s 
song. 


127 














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